


Over So Quickly

by StevetheIcecube



Series: MCU Spiderman Origin (feat. Autistic Peter Parker) [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Autistic Peter Parker, Misgendering (Minor), Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Trans Peter Parker, i wonder who dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 20:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11631285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StevetheIcecube/pseuds/StevetheIcecube
Summary: Peter wasn't exactly a stranger to seeing violent crime, but he'd never seen someone die before. Definitely not someone he loved.





	Over So Quickly

"Pizza?" Peter shrugged. He knew he should eat, but he just didn't feel right at the moment and the thought of pizza and most importantly cheese was enough to make him feel sick. "Come on, Peter, I know you don't feel great at the moment but you can't do your work on an empty stomach."

"I know," he managed. Everything was so loud now that it was hard to speak and Uncle Ben just...didn't know what was going on. He knew he should tell someone, of course, but he couldn't work out how. It was such a stupid thing to explain and he didn't want anyone worrying about him.

"I'm not one to advocate skipping dinner, but I could just get you a cake or something." That felt wrong too; if he wanted anything it would be something savory, but he didn't really want anything at all, even though he was starving. "Come on, Peter, your May's gonna kill me if I haven't fed you." He managed a smile at that, thinking about her reaction the last time Uncle Ben forgot to feed him (it had mostly been him forgetting to feed himself, but she was hesitant about pressing him about little things like that). "Look, I'll walk down to the market and get you some fruit. Promise me you'll eat some?"

"Maybe," he said. He couldn't promise anything anymore, really, with all the weird stuff that had been going on lately. It was better than it was, but that wasn't really saying much.

His uncle sighed. "Pete, I know you're going through a hard time at the moment. Your body's changing-" Peter pointedly looked away. He hated this discussion. He hated it every single time someone brought it up. "-and I know it's probably even harder for you than it is for everyone else, but you can talk about it, okay? You know what they keep telling you at school about no shame and all that, it's okay for men to talk about their feelings and if there's one stereotype you really don't-"

"Please stop," he said. He hated the constant reminders, even when they were unintentional. These ideas that everyone seemed to have about him and his feelings when really it was all nonsense. He was the only one who knew how he felt and all these things people kept saying in an attempt to just sound understanding didn't work. It just made him feel worse.

"Kid, I know...I know you don't like it much when people bring it up, but sometimes it's good to talk about it, y'know?" No, he didn't know. Because it was never good to talk about it and everyone was just wrong about that. "I know I don't understand it as well as you do because obviously times have changed and I don't have the same kind of perspective as you. Different experience, too."

"Uncle Ben-"

"No, Peter, just listen to me for a moment. Even if you think we don't understand, in fact, even if that's true and really don't, you need to talk to me and your aunt, okay?" It was 'your aunt and I' but Peter didn't feel like making him any angrier. "We're worried about you. You're probably overworked and very stressed. But we care for you and we really can't even hope to understand if you won't tell us what's going on."

He couldn't say a word. He felt like if he did, he might start shouting and he didn't want that. He didn't want anyone to make a big deal about this, he just wanted to get through it on his own. People thought it was so hard for him but he had so many bigger things to worry about. It was just the only thing that people ever saw. Everything that was wrong had to be about his body, it was never about anything that people saw as less important. And every time they reminded him it just started hurting all over again and it became a problem just because they seemed to want it to be, almost.

He just shook his head, trying not to show how frustrated he was, and went back to his room. Uncle Ben didn't even call after him, Peter just stood next to the door of his room and waited, hearing him move around before he finally left the house, leaving him alone and in the quiet again.

Letting out a huge sigh, he just moved to sit on the ground. He stretched over to his bed and picked up the earplugs he'd been wearing before his uncle called him out of his room, stuffing them back into his ears. The world became more bearable again, but he didn't exactly feel much better. He'd made his uncle quite angry, or maybe just quite worried, and he wasn't sure which one was worse.

Oh well. There was nothing he could really do about it now and he didn't want to dwell on it. He also didn't want to still be here when his uncle got home; he would much rather wait until he was asleep so he didn't have to deal with it until the morning, when he would probably feel much better. At the least he wanted to be back at a time when he could convincingly pretend to be asleep if Uncle Ben decided to check in on him.

Somewhere high up. That was what he wanted. He wasn't a big fan of heights, but there was absolutely nothing better than sitting on the roof of a tall apartment building and watching people go about their lives below. Sometimes he took a cloth mask so he could stay anonymous. He really didn't want people identifying him while he scaled a building with his bare hands.

Without thinking twice about it, he grabbed his rucksack and pulled up his window. In the rucksack was a spare set of keys just in case he couldn't get in through the window (he'd learned his lesson after Aunt May bolted it shut one night from the inside) and all the usual stuff: his phone, his wallet (but he basically had no money in there), his mask, a textbook for some math homework and a book that was a little bit more fun, and a torch for reading if he ended up staying out really late.

Skipping across buildings was hard and he was still working on some kind of adhesive rope he could use that wouldn't be too hard to make, but he eventually made it up to his favourite place to sit about two blocks away from the apartment. It was high up on the roof of a much fancier apartment block, and technically you could get up onto the roof from inside but he never saw anyone else up here, probably because it was so high up.

It was a good place to sit because if he got bored he could look around and he could see most of the streets for the next few blocks. That meant he could see if any crime was going on. Come to think of it, he could probably see the market from here, but he didn't want to think about Uncle Ben. He wanted to sit and read and not think about any of the shit that was going on when he had to actually talk to people. Up here, he could put earplugs or headphones in and just be himself. No pressure, no people staring, no worrying about showing off something new that he didn't want people to know about.

He needed that sometimes. Being himself had been hard enough before all the shit went down, but now he had all the heightened senses, the strength and the reflexes...it was so much worse. He couldn't hide reflexes because he couldn't stop them! It was scientifically impossible to stop a reflex. So to prevent them from happening he just had to spend as little time around people as possible. And that was hard, because sometimes he actually liked spending time around people.

After about an hour just sitting and relaxing, he felt a lot better. His book was good, and looking back on the argument with his uncle he felt a bit silly. He should probably get back and apologise for overreacting and explain that he was stressed about school or some other lie like that and it was making him twitchy. He shouldn't have been so worked up about what was said, his uncle was only trying to be understanding (even though he had failed). He supposed he couldn't expect anyone to understand if he didn't talk about it, it just wasn't the right moment then.

That was when he heard shouts from the ground. He pulled on his mask from where it had been resting on the side of the building (it had been blown off once, that was hard to explain to the elderly woman on her balcony) and started climbing down the building as quickly as he could. There was something going on down there, that much he could see, with a crowd of men over someone else. Hopefully he could take them on.

He hit the ground as quietly as he could, hoping the men were too distracted by whatever was going on to notice him. He'd have a huge advantage if he could surprise them, as even though he was trying to get better with fighting, reflexes could only get him so far and if he was pinned down there were some situations he just couldn't get out of.

Before he managed to get over to the men, they let out a huge cheer and a few of them kicked something in front of them. Oh no. Maybe he was too late. What could he do? Should he wait for them to disperse? There were quite a few more than he'd thought. There was no way he could deal with them on his own...should he call the police? Was it too late?

He watched with mounting horror, the I have new reflexes that tell me things my brain doesn't yet know type of horror, in the pit of his stomach as the men all stumbled semi-drunkenly in the same direction.

And then he saw the person lying on the ground.

No.

No, no, he got it wrong. It wasn't him it wasn't it was just someone who looked like him, he was hopeless at identifying people. It wasn't him. No.

Uncle Ben was lying, covered in blood, with his eyes wide open. His nose was smashed in, his face was covered in blood and so was his body and oh god oh god it was not good he might not even be alive anymore what was going on.

He felt faint very suddenly. He'd...he'd failed so badly and just when it mattered so much.

Ambulance. But he couldn't move. He could barely breathe. He tore the mask off his face and dropped it, his fingers almost numb. "Help," he whispered to himself. Stupid Peter. Stupid, stupid Peter. "Help," he said a little louder. "Help! Help, someone call an ambulance?" He tried not to think about how much the ambulance and the hospital would cost. "Help!"

He managed to take a step closer to Uncle Ben. It was him. It was him and it was Peter's fault because he hadn't been fast enough damn it damn it why hadn't he been paying more attention. Why? What did he do wrong? He hadn't meant to send his uncle out in the dark into the hands of dangerous men. He hadn't wanted it to be that way. He hadn't even wanted the fruit that his uncle wanted to get.

He moved closer again. It was so awful and he could smell the blood, it was everywhere. That was Uncle Ben. He was just lying there... He couldn't stop himself from taking the last few steps and putting a hand on his shoulder. No. No.

He wasn't breathing. Peter wasn't sure how he knew because he couldn't normally just tell these kinds of things, but Uncle Ben wasn't breathing anymore and he could hardly force himself to either. He doubted Ben's heart was going anymore either.

He wasn't sure what happened next, but he knew that he was crying and there was an ambulance coming closer. He could hear the siren from a long way off and it was getting closer. He didn't know what to do. There were people around, but the only person who really mattered there was Uncle Ben and he was probably gone by now.

Peter didn't want to think about what was coming next. The siren sound stopped, there were people around him, people talking, people touching Uncle Ben. He wanted to scream. This didn't seem real it couldn't be real. Uncle Ben couldn't be dead. No. No, he couldn't be dead.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder, probably to attract his attention. Without thinking, he reached up and twisted their arm away to get them off him. "He's-" his voice cracked and he couldn't finish. He knew he had to say he was a family member or he'd probably never see him again. "Please."

"It's okay kid, take a moment." The person's voice was quiet but Peter could hear it was pained. He'd twisted her arm. "Someone is calling the police at the moment. Do you know this man?"

"I was- round the corner," he managed. Lying lying why was he lying he shouldn't lie to them. Uncle Ben was dead or dying and he was lying to the people trying to help. "I was shopping with him- the market." No one would ever be able to tell he was lying. "I heard a shout, he's my uncle, I- I live with him." That was what they needed to hear, he knew.

"Okay," the woman said. She was being so quiet. "I'm not going to lie to you, young lady, but it's not looking good for your uncle. What's his name?"

"Ben," he said. "Ben Parker. He-"

"Shh, it's okay," she said. "Don't strain yourself now. I know this is hard, but try and stay strong. Did- does your uncle have a next of kin other than you?"

This couldn't be real.


End file.
